


Problem

by crystalemi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Bruce Banner, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Discrimination, First Time, Gender Issues, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied Anxiety, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Sexism, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Beta Read, Omega Tony Stark, Other, Sexism, talk of miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 23:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4038337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalemi/pseuds/crystalemi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is thirteen when Howard dies and Obadiah outs him as an Omega, so that Tony can't get his hands on Stark Industries.<br/>Tony Stark is only sixteen when he truly understands why he hates himself.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Problem

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my Google Drive for ages and it was mostly already complete.
> 
> I need you, dear reader, to keep in mind that this is all in Tony's point of view, and he's a) a master in denial and self-lying and b) a teenage that hates himself and has more issues than vogue.
> 
> Moreover this story has quite a bit of world building in the background, (if anyone's interested I can post it and you can use it as inspiration), and right now there are a few things you need to know beforehand:  
>  **1.** Alpha, Beta and Omega are more than secondary genders. Omegas aren’t male nor female, they’re completely functioning hermaphrodites. In this universe they have a three month long period, but while they’re not in Heat their sperm is just about as fertile as their ovules. Alpha are man and Beta are women, traditionally speaking. However male and female, first genders, are social constructions and people identify with whatever first gender they feel closer to. This is especially important for Omegas, as they are actively supported in choosing one or the other - which is probably dumb, but people are rarely bright.  
>  **2.** Tony at some point says that Omegas are rare. This is absolutely not true. Statistically speaking, there is one Omega every five people. The reason Tony thinks there are very few Omegas has to be found in his upbringing and more generally society’s ways. Tony, as for Howard’s wish, has next to no contact with any Omega before being taken to the family house, which is quite unusual. (For example, in a class of 25 kids at least 5 would have been Omegas and kindergarten teacher is a very popular job for Omegas). Moreover, Omegas adhere to primary genders, while birth control blocks the production of most of the hormones that can be “smelled” on their skin and that can give them away as Omegas. So it’s just not easy to spot an Omega in a crowd.
> 
>  **3.** Unmarried Omegas are referred to as O-Surname (O-Stark, O-Brown), while married Omegas take on the partner's surname. Calling someone married their "maiden" name, or calling someone not married without the "O-" is offensive.

On an average Tuesday, Tony cuts himself with a knife while working his shift in the kitchens with O-Brown, and he discovers a completely new level of pain. He’s used to occidentally cutting himself, but it has never burnt so bad, never as though all of his nerves have lit up on fire. He whimpers, the shock too great to let him express his pain any louder.

O-Brown helps him to the sink and puts his hand under the cold water, like he's done so many times before. However, today, Tony screams and tries to take it back from the liquid pain hitting on his finger. O-Brown’s hold is steely.

He hears himself beg and he can feel the sweat trickle down his nape and his back, he’s confused and the tears come out on their own. Tony doesn’t remember the last time he’s cried, and at some point he even thought he wasn’t able to cry at all, but now they come freely and suddenly he’s feeling lightheaded and lost. As he looks up at O-Brown wrapping his index finger in a tight bandage, he is hyper aware for the first time ever of the scratchy texture of the gauze.

As he looks on he’s violently hit by a surge of too many smells, all fighting to get a hold of his attention. He has to make a conscious effort to keep inside what little acid he’s got in his stomach. The whole world seems to shift on its axes and when Tony closes his eyes, he can finally make sense of every new smell, every little texture he’s never noticed before. The feel of his clothes against his skin is annoying, his shoes feel trapping and the sweat trickling down his body is ultimately the only thing that doesn’t feel too overwhelming.

The world of smells is new and encompassing. The kitchen’s scents and flavours are engrossing, Tony is able to catalogue all of them easily, although the spices still make his nose itch. What is truly new and disconcerting is how strongly and differently people smell.

O-Brown smells of herself, yes, but Tony can recognize someone else’s scent on his skin and mint tea on his clothes. He never spends much time in the library, but Tony can still smell new books with lucid pages and too many pictures. Cookbooks, he realizes.

Tony shivers as he opens his eyes and O-Brown is smiling tenderly at him, his plump cheeks quiver as he speaks and Tony shivers again, something unpleasant coiling in his guts.

He can’t understand what he’s being told, but he follows O-Brown like the smart little Omega he knows he can be and he’s handed a sheet of paper with a few questions. On the top of the form it’s written to keep it on him at all time until he gets his “social security card”.

He’s freed from all his chores for “as long as this takes” – it’s the first thing that O-Brown says that pierces through his momentary deafness and Tony is even more upset as the smells lighten and he’s left with a only slightly stronger sense of smell. He can still smell “someone else” on O-Brown, but the tea and new books are gone.

He goes to his room and for the first time in his life, he sleeps with the sun still up high in the sky.

***

He wakes up past curfew. It’s dark out of his window and there’s no moon to ease the darkness, only the steady hitting of rain against the glass.

Bruce is there, Tony can smell him so strongly it’s almost as if they’re back a few years before, when they hid under Tony’s blankets to fend off the cold and loneliness. Bruce has always smelled extremely good, homey and forceful. Tony remembers a night a few weeks back that they spent on the couch in the common room, talking about Einstein’s relativity theory. Bruce had gotten into it more than Tony had, and he’d started shooting off his own theories and Tony had smelled him almost as strongly as he is now. They had been so close that Tony’s nose had been pressed directly against Bruce’s bond gland that night.

“Bruce?” he calls out, it comes out small and eager. Tony’s cheeks heat up, a blacker-than-black shadow moves from the other side of the room. Tony hears Bruce sniffing the air as he comes closer. Tony’s cheeks darken.

“Are you okay?” Bruce asks, it comes out rough and Bruce clears his throat loudly. Tony reaches out with his left arm to the light switch right above his bedside table.

Once their eyes adjust to the sudden and painful brightness, Tony nods and lifts the corner of his blankets in a shy invite.

Bruce stands awkwardly close to the bed, unsure of something Tony can imagine concerns them lying in close proximity and the bed. In the end, he makes his way under the covers. Tony doesn’t let him make himself comfortable, instead he tugs him to the centre of the bed and cradle himself in his arms. Bruce simply lies there, but his arm finds his place around Tony's waist, without any prompting.

“I heard you got hurt?” Bruce asks again. Tony’s completely surrounded by the warm and spicy scent of Bruce and he almost doesn’t hear his question. When he looks up, Tony’s breath is Bruce's breath and Tony knows he should put some space between them – he knows Bruce can’t stomach anything “more than friends”, – but he can’t physically distance himself from this cocoon of safe-warm-spicy-Bruce.

“Cut my finger,” he answer, lifting up his index finger to show the bandages.

“Did you slice through it?” Bruce asks, staring sceptically at the quantity of gauze and bandages used for a supposedly small cut.

“Felt like it,” Tony answers and he feels Bruce shiver against his body. He shivers too.

“You smell… funny.” Bruce states, apparently tired of ignoring the elephant in the room. Tony shrugs in answer, pressing closer to Bruce and sighing in pleasure.

“Fucking,” Tony thinks, “doesn’t come close to be this good,” Bruce shifts away, breaking the comfortable pleasure Tony’s in, by stabbing it with a knife of refusal.

“Wouldn’t know, I’ve never…” Bruce mutters and of course Tony’s said that aloud, he’s not even entirely sure where he stops and where Bruce begins. The refusal thickens in the air, they can almost taste it on the tips of their tongues, as Tony gently disentangles himself from his best friend.

Bruce’s hand reaches out and grips Tony’s wrist, stilling him. Tony sees something in Bruce’s eyes, in his forceful expression – something that looks like anger and possessiveness – that has him go pliant and buttery in his hands.

Apparently, that makes Bruce eyes widen and he scrambles away from Tony, from his bed and his room, shutting the door loudly and forgetting his slippers next to the desk.

Tony cries for the second time in one day and he has no idea why, he’s not _that_ hurt.

***

The day after, Tony finally reads the form and goes to the counsellor of the family house. Tony calls him Phil and Phil calls him “pain in the ass” and that’s how good they know each other.

Phil had been the only one to actually help Tony get over his father’s death and his current relocation to a family house. Tony misses Jarvis and his old mansion more than he misses his father, but Phil says the burning hot blinding rage is actually a part of grieving, and he’s doing good.

Tony sits gingerly on the couch in the waiting room, and he uses the time to read the form another time. It says the same thing over and over and over again.

Name, address, Date of Birth, age of first time, some medical questions, and the scariest of them all: “Partner of choice”.

One of the oldest kids, a gruff Alpha that has never smelled nice to Tony, comes out the room looking grim. He shoots a glare at Tony, loudly sniffs and theatrically covers his nose with his sleeve, making a face and a gagging noise. Tony shows his middle finger in response.

The guy’s almost going to punch Tony when Phil coughs loudly in the other room to make his presence known. The guy glares at Tony again, but goes away nonetheless.

When Tony steps into the room, Phil is having a lemonade. He grins and takes his sit on the old and worn out leather love chair, and impatiently waits for Phil to go and sit on the twin chair.

Phil is ten or so years older than Tony and has only left the family house for the few years he needed to complete his studies. That’s probably why it’s so easy to talk to him. He’s been there in the family house all his life and he’s without a bonded partner and still functioning perfectly well - he's not crazy about cats and cooking like O-Brown, although he is a bit crazy about Captain America.

Phil’s close to his own Heat and Tony instantly feels calmer. Phil sits down and smiles politely at Tony, without acknowledging how tight his grip is on the glass or how Tony’s stressfully hanging on his piece of almost crumpled paper.

“I heard from O-Brown you’re fertile,” Phil says, once there’s only ice in his glass. Tony straightens his piece of paper with his hands and nods without looking at Phil.

There was a time when Tony Stark couldn’t even say the word “Omega” without repercussions. He remembers his father dragging him in the workshop and giving him simple projects to keep him entertained. He remembers that chemistry had been banned from his studies for a long time, before Howard felt comfortable enough in his ways that Tony wouldn’t jump from the lab to the kitchen.

Tony hates the words “Omega” and “Heat” and being called “O-Stark”, and he adds to the list being told he’s fertile.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, no matter what anyone else says.” Phil tells him and Tony has to grit his teeth to keep from telling him that, had he been an Alpha, he’d be living in his mansion, or in a college campus, and in a few years he’d be running Stark Industries. He almost tells him that had he been an Alpha, he’d be allowed in the workshop and the lab, here at the family house, and he’d never have to sneak in or rely on Bruce for books and notes.

“I saw in a porn it’s awesome,” Tony says instead. Phil looks annoyed, but he doesn’t say anything about watching porn – which is for Alphas, because Omegas don’t have porn dedicated to them, it's supposedly filthy and unbecoming, no matter half the porn going around has pretty omega in it – and instead he says: “Porn exaggerates, but it’s not bad.”

Tony nods, because he has no idea what he’s supposed to reply. Phil reaches out showing the palm of his hand to Tony, silently asking him to hand the sheet.

Phil looks at it for a few seconds, then gives it back, once it’s obvious that it’s still blank.

Together with the sheet, Tony receives one of Phil’s pens and they set out to complete it together. It’s easy at first and Tony doesn’t have to think. When they get to the medical part, Tony has to grit his teeth at most of the questions, trying to keep himself from blurting out that this is his personal business.

Tony has to write down he takes meds for his anxiety and to fall asleep when he’s too tense – which happens at least five times a week.

Phil dictates the part about his personal psychological issues. Tony still think it’s his own business he shouldn’t have to write it down on a sheet that every alpha could ask to be handed and it'd be in their right to read it.

Phil shows him the second form while he scans the one they completed. Tony’s squirming at that other form, the one he has to bring to the midwife after his first time.

It asks for his first time, the name of the actual partner, the results of a physical exam. Then there’s a table, under the title “pregnancies”, that gives Tony the chills. There are three ominous columns: “Partner”, “Date of Conception”, “Date of Birth/Miscarriage*”. He follow the star to the bottom of the page and there it says to write clearly “B” or “M” next to the date to identify it as one or the other. He's hit by a sudden wave of nausea.

Tony adds Conception and Miscarriage to the lists of words he hates. He’s not entirely sure which one sounds more ominous.

Phil lets him go after another half an hour, spent trying to pry into Tony’s mind. He tries to make Tony talk about the impending situation, but Tony can only think of _Birth_ and _Miscarriage_ and _Date of Conception_ and he wants his form back and for the first time in years he wants his dad alive, keeping him away from anything that could hurt him.

He needs his anxiety medication, but they suspended it the moment he showed he’s fertile. It’s already bad enough they haven’t noticed before in one of the monthly exams, has said the nurse, berating herself. Tony wonders if that means there won’t be conception or if there’ll be miscarriage. He shudders.

Bruce sneaks him his lessons' notes that day. Bruce is smart, possibly even smarter than Tony, but they don’t play on even ground, and it makes him angry when Tony mentions Bruce's smarter, so Tony keeps his hypothesis to himself, mostly. Bruce goes to NYU during the day, even if he’s only seventeen. He takes notes like he does everything else: perfectly clear to himself (and Tony) and a gibberish mess to anyone else.

Together, once Bruce notices that Tony’s anxiety is getting worse and might even degenerate in a full on panic attack, they sneak in the small workshop of the family house.

It’s a small place, without most of the things Tony had back at the mansion, but Tony’s been building some he remembers well and can find the things to build them with. They’ve been saying it’s been Bruce all along, although Bruce tries to deny it every time and it’s always angry at Tony when Tony says it’s just modesty and that Bruce’s a genius.

It’s not like Tony likes it much better than Bruce does, but he can’t tell he’s smart. He can’t deal with people prying into his childhood and he knows the moment it’s out of friendly or professional secret, people with cameras and money to back them up will start asking the right questions and his chances of getting back Stark Industries will be forever ruined.

Tony tinkers for a while and then plays around with designs for a prototype of some air repulsion system he’s been working on for years and never got around perfecting. He misses a small source of power able to keep running for a while in a stabilized way, without dragging down the whole plane.

He wishes he could transfer J.A.R.V.I.S. – his own AI – in all of the family house computers, but he’s not ready to say Bruce invented it. J.A.R.V.I.S. is his, he coded him from what he remembered from his first baby AI when he still worked under his father’s watchful eye.

A cramp to his belly hits him suddenly, when he’s so far into his own mind and away from thoughts on his gloom future that he crumples on himself, scaring Bruce with a loud whimper of pain.

Bruce is there in a beat, massaging the small of his back, until the pain is gone, and Tony’s just tired of living.

“I don’t want to…” he mutters to Bruce, looking up at him, with tears stubbornly kept at bay, but still making his eyes shine in the too bright light of his workspace.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce replies and for the first time since they met, Tony hates Bruce too.

***

When Tony next wakes up, he’s alone in his bedroom and there’s light filtering through the curtains. There’s the warm and spicy smell of Bruce in the room, but it’s somehow colder, just like it is on his pillow and blankets.

Tony’s head feels stuffed full of cotton balls. He gently pets his bed, where the scent is stronger and his arousal spikes. Tony’s cock is hard and his most hated hole – the damn thing that made his life into a nightmare - is wet and pulsing lazily.

Tony craves to be lazily fucked back to sleep with the same intensity he wants to wake up an Alpha, so he gets up, ditches his pyjamas and wears the sturdiest and tightest pair of jeans he owns and makes a run for the showers.

The freezing cold shower helps, but only to a certain degree. His cock scares itself out of its erection and goes back to being a soft appendage, just as his balls try to shrink back into his body. His hole, though, still aches dumbly.

Tony still craves and yearns and feels sad and alone, wet and chilled to the bone. His guts are still warm and tight. Tony wonders if it’s going to get better or worse with time.

Maybe it’s only the first time, he thinks. He’ll be on birth control from the moment he’s done with his first heat – and that is what causes the miscarriages in all of the guys like him, their bodies not strong enough to hold on a pregnancy when the pills upset their hormone's balance.

He’s aware the changes in his five senses are a permanent feature, therefore he at least won’t have to deal with it ever again. He just hopes Alphas won’t always make him either want to gag or fuck. He’d like to be able to fight his way through society without having to either kill or fuck any Alpha he encounters on his way. Which he guesses aren’t just a few, Weapon Industry being a Alpha dominated field and all.

He also hopes that his sense of smell will back him up against Obadiah, because he knows he has to fight the old man once he’s back at the top. He doesn’t want to have his brain tell him _“strip and on your knees”_ the moment it gets a sniff of the enemy.

He steps out of the shower, annoyed and tired.

After he gets dressed again, he goes to the kitchen to get his breakfast – O-Brown is more lenient with him, since he hardly ever eat – and a kid makes him pancakes. The kid, Peter, is maybe thirteen and one of the most curious. Tony had given him his old books a couple of times and although they were on mechanics, the kid had read them and asked smart questions. Tony kind of likes him.

Bruce likes him best, because the kid has a penchant for biology and Bruce likes biology too. Tony thinks it’s too stupid a science to deserve more than a basic knowledge and he’s only cared for it as far as making J.A.R.V.I.S. as human as possible was concerned.

“How does it taste?” Peter asks him and Tony forces a smile out just for him, mumbling “Good,” in answer. The pancakes really taste great, but Tony feels a bit sick, maybe from the shower, possibly from the hormone imbalance and the cramp-like pains in his loins.

“O-Brown always likes them better with ice cream on top when he’s…” Peter suggests, and blushes. Tony suddenly feels sicker and has to excuse himself in a rush.

He reaches the bathroom closest to the kitchens with only a few seconds to spare, before he’s throwing up what little he’s had. Once he’s done, he leans his head against the cold white bowl and heaves a sigh. He has no more tears to cry, or he would.

For a second he hopes for this misery to end, but then remembers what he is and how this isn’t a passing flu and all of his hope shrink down to a laughable candle-light and then he cries and cries and silently begs Gods he never believed in.

He doesn’t deserve any of this.

***

Bruce finds him in the kids’ playroom. He’s been asked to keep an eye on the three toddlers the Family’s got, as their carer’s down with the flu.

The kids are lovely and Tony likes watching them and imagining how much potential they’re hiding and maybe one day they’ll win a Nobel Prize, find a cure to malaria, save the world, help keep it at peace. He loves kids, they only ask the question that really matters in his opinion: “why”, no other uncomfortable question. Not at this stage, anyway.

Bruce looks awkward and there’s something in his posture that wants Tony to grab all the kids and have them say hi to him. Tony knows it’s his situation talking and all of the hormones, so he stays still and waits for the moment to pass.

Bruce sits down next to Tony, on the small couch he’s claimed for himself. It’s small enough that Tony’s feet end up on Bruce’s lap, and Bruce, as always, draws circles with the pad of his thumb on the exposed ankle.

Tony hums in pleasure and his body relaxes. Instead, Bruce's tenses, his thumb stilling on Tony, who berates himself for the little sound. Bruce nose scrunches up a bit and his face features turn hard and unreadable. The thumb goes back to drawing circles on Tony’s skin, so it doesn’t matter.

The kids stumble toward them, and Tony realizes he must be emitting some hormones to soothe Bruce. Or maybe the strange edge of Bruce’s smell is actually what’s attracting the kids. He doesn’t really care: there’s less probability of him fucking their friendship up if he’s got a toddler close.

The kids start showing Bruce their games and drawings and Bruce’s thumb never leaves Tony’s ankle, no matter what the kids ask of him or show him. He’s so good with them that Tony’s almost moved and he has to take deep breathe to avoid crying. There’s this bubble inside of him that shrinks and expands and at some point – when Bruce smiles brightly at one of the kids – it explodes and Tony has to do his damnest to avoid tearing up. Somehow, it’s still a strangely nice, however overwhelming it feels.

Gradually, Bruce’s scent gets stronger and fills Tony’s nostrils in a soothing and exciting way. Tony’s high on it and just lies there, only thinking about breathing, concentrating on that to avoid losing himself for good.

At some point, Maggy – a girl from the neighbourhood volunteering there in the afternoons - comes to get the kids for their bath and supper. Tony’s distantly aware of it, but he leaves it to Bruce, feeling too safe and happy to care.

Bruce sits back down, this time only one of Tony’s ankles finds its way on his lap, the other one is pressed against the back of the couch. Now that his legs are open, Tony can smell himself, the slick he didn’t notice wetting his underwear.

For a split second, the idea of Bruce sniffing at his crotch almost makes him moan loudly. So, Tony simply shoves his books down the couch and gets comfortable. Bruce looks up from what he's reading at the noise of the books, then he locks eyes with Tony and Tony shudders violently at all the repressed emotions in those eyes. Before Tony realizes what he’s doing, his fingers are popping the button of his jeans and the fly is open in record time.

Bruce applies gentle pressure on his ankle and that much stops him from shoving his jeans and underwear off. Tony waits for the other shoe to drop, as he observes Bruce irises fight their way against the blackness of the dilating pupils.

Bruce regains his control and looks up from Tony’s ankle to his face. Tony’s going to cry and scream in frustration and he’s only still holding it together because humiliation is worse than blue balls.

He doesn’t know for how long he'll believe that though, as the need to be fucked into next week is slowly eating up on his fear of being humiliated in front of the only person he actually loves.

He has nothing to fear, because soon Bruce leans up, one hand gripping tight his t-shirt, the other anchored to his ankle, and kisses Tony. It’s a sweet one, less what Tony needs and more what they both want.

Bruce is all gangly limbs and messy hair and pimples. Tony can feel his braces against both their closed lips, and that’s strangely endearing.

Tony’s different, he feels different. There’s no awkwardness on his part in the kiss, his body is inviting and slowly getting wetter and messier. He doesn’t even hesitate before pushing the tip of his tongue against Bruce’s lips.

It’s not their first kiss – they had more than a few growing up, some heated some comforting, all of them sweet and dear – but it’s the only one Tony has claimed with the intent of spreading his legs for Bruce.

His legs are actually already spread, Bruce is between them, holding one of Tony’s legs bent at the knee by his ankle.

Bruce opens his mouth, at the same time they hear a loud cough from the entryway. Tony grunts, pained, while Bruce jumps to his feet, putting himself between Tony and the Alpha teacher that interrupted them, looking wildly surprised and scared out of his skin, but still endearing in his will to protect and fight.

“Go.” The man says and Tony gets up as Bruce seems ready to spring and run off, but at the same time he’s unable to leave Tony alone with another Alpha.

Tony walks in front of Bruce until the playroom is far enough that the other Alpha’s smell is hard to pick between all the others. Bruce is still on edge when Tony slows down to wait for him, but he also looks ashamed of himself, so Tony doesn’t tell him he hates walking in front of him, like a _thing_ Bruce needs to see at all times.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce bites out when they reach the hallway at which end there’s Tony’s room.

“It’s okay, I’m horny.” Tony tells him, wondering whether Bruce is going to run away or might want to finish in Tony’s room. Tony’s the only lucky kid with a single room, and that’s because it doesn’t matter if he’s a little broken spiteful Omega, he’s still a Stark and Obadiah’s paying them an embarrassing amount of money to keep him silent and dumb.

Bruce shuffles on place, abusing the sleeves of his button-down. Tony almost puts him out of his misery, but Bruce looks up at him for the first time since the playroom and in his eyes Tony can see he’s scared. Tony realizes that, while his body is making him an adult, Bruce isn’t going through the same changes and he’s still the kid that likes chocolate too much and is angry at everyone except for Tony, but on good days only.

Bruce is still a kid, and maybe he doesn’t care for sex yet. Tony isn’t sure he can ask him to go through sex and conception and miscarriage or birth. He isn’t sure anyone deserves that, and Bruce isn’t bound by biology to suffer through it, so maybe Tony should back down.

One day Bruce is going to find a pretty girl and be happy, have children when he wants them and if he’s lucky, he’ll never hear the word miscarriage.

“Look, you got classes tomorrow, I’m going to bed.” Tony tells Bruce, completely disregarding the fact that Bruce seems to have gathered enough balls to tell him whatever he wanted to. The crestfallen look on Bruce’s face is almost enough to give Tony hope that maybe Bruce _wants_ to, wants _Tony_ , but the anger is quick to follow and Tony knows he won’t see Bruce for a few days.

He’s right, he doesn’t see Bruce for a whole week - he’ll never admit he spent most of those nights crying himself to sleep.

***

Tony sees Phil on the first weekend of December.

He’s just been to a medical examination of his private parts and he’s shocked beyond belief. The nurse asked him all the most embarrassing questions she could think of and Tony had to answer. No snarky remarks admitted.

He’s been asked about the disgusting white yellowish substance his cunt has been leaking all over his underwear, he’s been asked about masturbating and the texture of his sperm – which is starting to be diluted and closer to transparent than white. Closer to watery than creamy.

He’s been asked about how much action he’s seen since his body “awakened” and at his embarrassed “Nothing at all,” he’s been recommended to start rediscovering his body and its new needs with the partner he indicated on the sheet of paper Tony compiled with Phil.

He’s exhausted, but he still wants to talk to Phil. Hopefully, talking about the mess will make it look less like a tragedy and more like a mild annoyance.

Phil’s office is empty, but Phil is talking to the head nun and there’s a black skinned, angry looking man standing too close to him. Tony wonders if he’s the guy with the nasty smell he sometimes can sniff after Phil’s times of-

“Heat,” Tony murmurs to himself, After Phil's _Heat_. The word foreign and disgusting on his tongue, but that’s his new reality, he’ll better start using the right word for it.

When the guy walks close to Tony, he sniffs him, loudly and displeased. Tony returns the favour and makes a disgusted face even though the guy’s scent is actually mouth-watering.

Phil points to his office with his thumb and Tony follows the silent order. The door closes behind his back, so Tony’s left alone and he sits down on his usual chair.

He gets up, paces the length of Phil’s office a few times, then he sits back down again. He stares at Phil’s old computer and gets up again, Tony tries to guess Phil’s password a few times, but then his eye falls on a stack of documents with his name on them.

He starts fast reading them in casual order. They’re talking about his father and some hypothetical abuse Tony’s gone through. Tony gets angry – he wasn’t abused. His father was the only asshole that didn’t care that Tony was flawed, he only cared about Tony’s brain.

Tony remembers a night he eavesdropped on his parents arguing – his mum was still alive and his father wasn’t as far into the bottle as he’d been after her death – and he can recall clearly how his father opposed his mother on the “proper way to raise an Omega”. Howard said he didn’t care that Tony was an Omega, he had a great brain, infinite possibilities and Maria wasn’t going to stuff his boy’s head with some shit about table manners and bending down and taking cock.

Tony didn’t know what cock meant at the time, but it sure had sounded ominous.

He’s distracted from his reverie when Phil enters the room and freezes on the door.

“I wasn’t abused.” Tony says and Phil grimaces.

“I’m not saying you were,” Phil starts, but half of the people that want Tony to “see reason” start their sentences like that. Mum did, Dad did, Obie did too.

Bruce does too, all the time.

“You’re not saying I was abused, but you’ve been writing a paper on it.” He says. He feels betrayed like the night his dad died in a car crash and no one believed him when he'd stated that Howard wasn’t drunk that night.

“Sit down,” Phil points to the chair Tony usually likes and adds a nice “Please,” at the end of it. Tony does like he’s told because he still doesn’t want to believe Phil would see him like an abused little kid, too dumb to realize he’s been abused all his life.

“You weren’t abuse,” Phil says, trying to placate him – it doesn’t work, but Tony appreciates the effort, “But you can’t possibly deny that your father never accepted your gender.”

Tony thinks about it, because he doesn’t remember Howard ever accepting his whole existence after his mother’s death. It’s not about gender, he thinks, it’s more about what his gender meant for him.

He tries to explain himself and Phil nods, but he doesn’t look convinced or even inclined to take his reasoning into account, so after a long hour of pleading his case to an unmovable court, Tony leaves the office, storming down the corridor, heading to the alphas' wing.

Bruce is there, on his door, talking with one of the guys from the next room when Tony all but storms up to him and demands to be given his notes.

Bruce is taken aback, but relinquishes the notes without much fuss and a few minutes later Tony finds himself studying all of Bruce’s new notes on Bruce’s bed.

It’s the mix that relaxes Tony. Bruce spicy hot scent and his complex notes that Tony has to decrypt and analyse before committing to memory and the interesting subject of Bruce’s classes, it all calms Tony. He’s pliant and languid, and he subtly breathes in the smell of Alpha from Bruce’s blankets. In return, Tony’s being a bit of a bastard. He’s strangling Bruce’s pillow between his thighs, in order to alleviate the discomfort of his swollen slit. The scent will stay with Bruce for days and they both know it.

Bruce roommates fled the room as soon as Tony sprawled on Bruce’s bed, so they’re all alone and Tony feels like his Heat is going to happen soon, maybe it’s just a matter of a couple of days.

Bruce is visibly on edge and he keeps blushing every few seconds, an embarrassing question is written all over his face, but he seems to need a little input to actually ask Tony whatever he wants.

“It’s uncomfortable,” Tony says, pressing against the pillow, which doesn’t really help at all.

Bruce’s blush darkens but he seems to find his balls and finally asks: “But it doesn’t hurt?”

Tony shrugs, “Nope,” he pops the “p” and goes back to reading the notes.

“Do you wanna see?” Tony asks out of the blue, five minutes later, once Bruce has calmed down and started on his paper. Bruce jumps, his pen escapes his grip and for a few seconds there’s a comical scene of flailing limbs and flying pens and then the chairs falls to the floor as Bruce gets a grip of himself and the pen and they both watch the poor chair lying there.

“Do you want to see it?” Tony asks again and Bruce blushes again, darker than Tony’s ever seen him, but indeed he nods. Tony knows Bruce’s always been fascinated by Omega biology, although he’s never admitted it.

Tony turns on his back and unbuckles his belt, he pops the button of his jeans open and hesitates with a hand on his fly. He shifts the pillow under his hips and opens the fly, not once looking at Bruce.

Tony pushes his jeans and boxer-briefs down his thighs, stopping at his knees. He looks up to Bruce and something flutters in him at the sight the alpha makes. He looks starved and wanting and Tony beckons him, maybe hoping to give more than what they agreed on.

Bruce sits on the bed and looks at Tony’s private parts. He touches his knees, keeping Tony’s legs between them, and Tony can’t help the soft sigh that leaves him at the contact. Bruce stutters in his silent observation and remembers there’s a Tony attached to the pussy he’s looking at. He blushes and Tony lets out a nervous laugh.

“It looks angry red,” Bruce states, looking Tony in the eye.

“I don’t know about looking red, but I can assure it feels real angry.” Tony jokes and wins a smile from Bruce.

Bruce massages gently Tony’s thighs and makes him sigh in pleasure.

“But it doesn’t hurt,” Bruce adds, his eyes back on the swollen red vaginal opening. He doesn’t sound convinced at all.

Tony shakes his head and mutters something that sounds like a denial and then he huffs something and lets his head hit the blankets.

Bruce observes on and Tony is distinctly aware of his cock getting harder and when Bruce gasps Tony knows his hole must have contracted, because he’s trying real hard to keep his arousal from getting out.

It’s a battle Tony’s not at all sad about losing.

He has no idea how things exactly escalates, but at first Bruce is just studying, maybe a bit too clinically for Tony's aroused self, a little later, when there's a lot of slick trickling out of his birth channel, he's visibly restraining himself, and the next moment, Tony is tasting blood from biting down on his own lip, his legs pressed against his chest almost painfully as Bruce assaults his hole with his tongue and mouth.

It’s sloppy and it’s clear that Bruce has never gone down on anyone, but it’s not like he lacks enthusiasm or Tony can compare with anyone else – and it doesn’t matter, because Tony’s begging and moaning loudly, his brain unable to fathom how sensitive that place is being while a few months before it hadn't been so. He only has to tug a couple times on his cock to come harder than he's ever done.

Bruce’s face is a mess of saliva and slick, but Tony tugs him up and kisses him. The flavour that burst in his mouth is dirty and strange, but not unpleasant. Bruce kisses like he eats pussy: enthusiasm and mess and a good dose of starving for it.

Tony shivers and moans and hopes he’ll get Bruce to fuck him the same way.

Bruce doesn’t. He stands up, goes to poke around in one of the bedside’s drawers and fishes out a box of wet wipes and cleans his chin and mouth and lower cheeks with one. He gives Tony his back, probably embarrassed, but once he deems himself clean, he turns around and approaches Tony, who’s still spread on the bed, hips still on the pillow, legs bent at the knees and cock spent.

Bruce wipes him clean. First, he gently wipes at saliva and slick from his opening, which feels less uncomfortable and swollen than before, then he cleans all traces of Tony’s not-very-dense come from his skin. Most of the come hit Tony’s t-shirt, so Bruce helps him out of it – Tony’s limbs are still uncooperative – and eventually, he helps Tony back into his boxer-briefs and jeans.

Tony feels the usual bubble of emotions that has been living in his guts since he became fertile burst happily and he sheds a few tears. He’s not entirely sure why, but being redressed makes him cry and it’s not the bad kind of crying.

Bruce, though, panics. He’s helping Tony sit up to put him in one of his own button-downs, when Tony starts crying in his arms. He starts and tries to run out of Tony’s grip, but Tony just burrows his face in his neck and Bruce forces himself to calm down so that his bond gland will give off a soothing scent.

Tony is lulled into a peaceful tranquillity and eventually falls asleep, still clutching at Bruce’s shirt.

***

Tony wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, clutching at a white button-down and cocooned in the familiar smell of Bruce. He doesn’t remember falling asleep and he doesn’t remember sleeping with Bruce, he doesn’t even remember Bruce getting out of bed. All of the other beds are empty and unmade. Tony snuggles with the shirt and hides under the covers. The bed's still warm and smells of two people, and the musky scent of stale sex and new arousal. Tony is getting aroused in response to the scent of the bed, and he guesses it must be Bruce’s.

Tony hadn’t exactly had time to analyze scents while Bruce was eating him out, so he couldn’t easily separate and catalogue all the new smells, but he was willing to bet his body knew and was acting accordingly to his Alpha’s will.

His Alpha, Tony thinks and shivers, partly aroused, but mostly scared.

There was a long way between wanting an alpha to mount you while in heat and wanting the man to be your legitimate Alpha and own your life.

If there is one thing Tony's scared of, that must be bonding. When he was younger, he promised himself he’d never bond and surrender. No one would ever brag about owning Tony Stark, he’d kill himself first.

He's not so sure about it any more; he's not sure about anything at all, if he has to be honest.

***

He shuffles into the kitchen wearing his jeans and Bruce button-down. He’s wearing colourful socks he fished out of one of the guys’ drawers and he’s fighting to get into a huge old Batman hoodie he found lying around in the messy room. It looks familiar but he can't remember if he's seen it on Bruce or one of the other guys. He’s not sure he’ll give it back either way, he likes it.

O-Brown smells of chocolate and caramel and something else entirely different, but still toothache inducing. He’s smiling extra bright and all of the Omegas in the kitchen act the same way Tony’s caught himself acting: they all tend to get too close to O-Brown and all of them try to keep the heaviest most dangerous jobs from him.

Which means that Tony finds himself shooing O-Brown away from the chocolate boiling in the huge pot. Tony simply shrugs to himself and start energetically steering.

“You had sex?” The oldest Omega kid in the Family House asks him when no one is listening and Tony startles. He blushes and the boy, a couple years older than Tony himself, just smiles.

“It’s okay, you know?” Jamie tells him, taking control of the boiling chocolate and adding cinnamon to it. Tony doesn’t know what he’s talking about – it’s not like they actually had sex yesterday, Bruce didn’t even come and Tony didn’t even took off all his clothes.

“Keep the hoodie,” Jamie adds, leaving the pot to him and going to help young Peter breaking eggs.

“It really helps,” O-Brown adds, and Tony begrudgingly acknowledges to himself he's known all along who the owner of the hoodie is.

***

“Family House” is a nice name, but it’s just a frill away from its true meaning. No one calls it an orphanage, but everyone knows that’s what it is.

It’s a rich orphanage, run by nuns and the Church to “protect and cherish the most sensitive of the genders”. It all means that there is a denser Omega population in those four walls than there is in the whole of New York City.

Omegas are loved and tender and precious and all that shit Tony’s learnt since he was thirteen and he’s never believed in once.

He doesn’t need to be protected, to be sheltered and he sure as hell doesn’t need to be controlled. He’s not a danger to himself, no matter what “the studies” say.

Bruce and the other alphas are kept around to balance the Omegas and to grant them the possibility of learning what their future owners will want from them. They’re also conveniently there for kids to spend their first Heat with someone they’re friends with.

Tony isn’t fooled by all the nice words, he knows he’s being kept in a cage and trained to behave properly. His mother would be so proud of this place, and maybe she did charity for it, so that’s why he’s ended up here instead of at boarding school.

Tony often ill-behaved when he was first brought there and meeting Bruce was the only thing that mellowed him down. The nuns and the staff (and Phil too) liked to think he had found the right Alpha, capable of keeping him on his best behaviour, but Tony knows better. Bruce knows better too.

Bruce doesn’t like being an Alpha. Tony knows there’s some real abuse story on his best friend shoulders, but he never pried. He respects Bruce that much, yes.

Tony also knows that Bruce is his best bet to get a cool Alpha that will let him be who he is, no matter how fucked up Tony actually is.

Bruce likes Tony and Tony likes Bruce and everyone expect them to end up in a nice pretty house, close to a research facility so that Bruce can work and bring the bread to their dinner table, while Tony will pop out a new kid every nine months.

Tony likes Bruce a lot, but nowhere enough to let go of his plans of getting Stark Industries back. It doesn’t matter either way because Bruce likes Tony enough to promise to work for him when – not if, Bruce said _when_ \- Tony succeeds.

So Tony doesn’t let nuns and staff and his worthless classes get in the way of his friendship with Bruce. He doesn’t know if the Heat will change something, but maybe he wishes it will. Tony would like to love Bruce and to be loved back, but he also doesn’t want to become stupid like the Omegas in the books and movies and tv shows.

He’s not a thing Bruce can own and Tony is dead sure, Bruce wouldn’t care for a thing to own, as most of their friendship is based off science and crazy midnight experiments gone awry. Bruce likes who Tony is, not what Tony has between his legs.

***

Bruce doesn’t ask for his hoodie back, not even when Tony’s wearing it in the common room and their plastered together fast reading a book on electronics a few days later.

Every day Tony feels the heat coming on stronger. His come has reached the consistence of water and it’s pretty disgusting to clean. It looks like sick white piss. His body wakes him up every morning with terrible cramps and leaking slick and a hot burning sensation under his skin. He’s started to sleep naked as clothes drive him crazy and he’s in for a early carpal tunnel syndrome from all the fingering he’s doing before falling asleep exhausted and unsatisfied.

He’s masturbated enough times to last him a lifetime and he’s ashamed to say it’s not nearly enough, unless he’s using Bruce’s hoodie to muffle his moans and pleads. He’s come calling Bruce's name enough times to be ready to hang himself in shame.

Bruce smells of arousal constantly, so Tony tries to accept the fact that he’s not alone in this shameful parody of their friendship.

They haven’t had sex again, although Tony’s not sure he can call what they did _sex_ , but he’s not against having more of it.

Tony’s sniffed Bruce against his bond gland every day, first thing in the morning, and Bruce reciprocates at night when they’re alone in Tony’s room, just before he goes to his own room.

Now they’re in Tony’s, the Omega's sprawled on his bed and feels his blood boiling in his veins, his hole is leaking slick like it’s going out of style and his whole body aches and burns.

His clothes scratches at him like sandpaper and he’s been fighting his condition for the last three hours, considering it a fake heat wave.

Apparently, it isn’t.

His hole squirms against the emptiness and Tony’s feeling sick from all of the need cursing through his body. He’s lightheaded and painfully hard and empty.

The emptiness is what hurts the most.

Bruce has kept himself busy, looking at his unwritten paper with a stubbornness Tony envies. He hasn’t looked up or even sniffed and that’s when Tony decides he’s going to fuck himself on Bruce’s cock or die trying.

He ditches his tracksuit pants – that morning denim had felt like a rough lead cage – and throws his dirty wet underwear at Bruce head. He hits bulls eye and Bruce turns around half befuddled and half ready to spring into action.

Tony’s brain keeps screaming at him _“empty empty empty empty empty”_ and it’s driving him crazy. He’s still wearing his hoodie ( _Bruce’s_ hoodie) and it sounds filthy and sexy in his mind, so he spreads his legs wide and pokes at his slit with both his index fingers. He pulls it open and whimpers at the feel of cold air on his insides.

Bruce’s frozen on the chair, his eyes following attentively Tony's movements. It makes Tony moans loudly and slips a finger inside, as the other hand wraps around the back of his knee and pulls it up, spreading him even wider, just for Bruce.

Tony doesn’t let his embarrassment stop him from begging like the Omegas in the porn movies and it doesn’t matter because after the third time “Alpha please” leaves his lips, Bruce is on him, jeans open, belt discarded on the chair.

Bruce is already hard and Tony assumes he’s been hard for a while, fighting off the instinct to _claim, fuck, breed, bite_.

Bruce’s fingers go to Tony’s hole, they circle and enter and drag slick out, Bruce uses the stolen slick to lube his glans up and he’s pressing against Tony’s slit sooner than Tony can deal with.

Tony is scared he’ll push in – it’s too fucking big compared to Tony’s fingers and there’s not enough slick – but Bruce keeps on the edge. He pushes in without breaching, he circles with his glans around the slit and then goes back pushing.

It’s maddening and Tony feels like he’s being punished for something he hasn’t done, but maybe Bruce knows what he’s doing because Tony’s leaking even more than before. Tony begs and Bruce shushes him every time, until Tony shuts up and tries to hold his whimpers in.

Only then does Bruce take Tony’s hand and make him grip one of his ass cheeks and hold it as he spreads him open wider with the hand not holding his cock. Tony whimpers in misplaced shame when his slit opens, but he cries out in bliss as the tip of Bruce’s cock pushes inside for the first glorious time.

It doesn’t take long before Bruce’s actively pushing inside, his cock feeling twice his actual size and hurting Tony like he’s being split in two, but the pain seems to be what his body needs to stop boiling everywhere. All the hotness concentrates in Tony’s loins and he can hear himself howl and beg and moan without an ounce of shame.

Bruce is telling Tony how hot and tight and incredible he feels around him and Tony suddenly feels like the most important thing in the whole world, like the only important thing in Bruce’s world.

Bruce pushes in, pulls out, drags his cock against Tony’s inside. They’re going too hard too fast and Tony feels the tears well up in his eyes until Bruce drags his glans against the same point he’s been dragging it against since they started, but this time it’s just _too much_ and Tony feels something inside him break and waves of pleasure washes through him and pulse deep into his loins. He’s freely crying and begging Bruce to “Come, come, baby, _please_ , come,” until he hears Bruce loudly swear and his insides are flooded with something hot.

Tony can’t help, but cry out in pain as the knot breaks the thin membrane - his virginity, his brain supplies - and his muscles lock Bruce in place.

He can’t stop crying. He doesn’t know why he’s crying, but he can’t stop. It doesn’t hurt, it’s not even uncomfortable yet. Bruce cock is just the right size, the knot feels huge, but more of a huge comfort, than a huge pain in the ass.

Bruce panics, asks him what he did wrong and Tony shakes his head. He wants to explain Bruce he was wonderful and perfect and great and everything Tony wanted and needed, but he can’t talk and breathe and cry at the same time.

At some point Tony has no more tears in him and soon Bruce knot deflates enough for Bruce to pull out. Bruce goes in for a reassuring kiss, but Tony goes along with it only for a short while, too eager to get on his knees and get Bruce cock back inside.

Bruce slides back in and this time it goes smoothly and there’s no crying from Tony, except when he cries out Bruce's name between one thrust and the next. Bruce is breathing hotly against his back and Tony thinks everything’s perfect.

Bruce is abusing the bundle of sensitive tissue inside Tony’s birthing channel with every thrust and Tony asks for more, even though he doesn’t know what more is there – Bruce, however, knows and starts up a fast unforgiving pace. Tony howls and begs and promises he’ll be good, so good, just for Bruce – and Bruce answers straight in his ear that he’s already being so good and his hole was made just for Bruce. Tony could cry from how happy that makes him feel.

All of Tony’s world shrinks back to Bruce and pleasure and being good – and maybe Tony wouldn’t mind once a few months becoming just a warm hole for Bruce to fill with seed, with their _pups_.

“Breed me,” Tony mutters, surprising them both, and Bruce comes suddenly, filling Tony to the brim, he comes so hard that Tony’s startled into knotting him while he’s not ready. Bruce is buried deep inside Tony, still coming and the pulse inside Tony gets terrifyingly strong and he’s coming hard, both inside and from his cock. They awkwardly kneel on the bed, and watching the wet linens.

“Is that piss?” Bruce asks and he comes again inside Tony, who scrunches up his nose but appreciates the warm flood of semen in his body. He didn’t notice before that Bruce could actually come more than once while knotted. Maybe before he didn't.

“Does it smell like piss?” he snaps and Bruce shakes his head against Tony’s back.

“Looks enough like it,” Bruce mutters, then touches the wet area – he pushes inside Tony while he moves, and Tony gasps as a wave of his own orgasm washes through him – then Bruce sniffs his fingers and adds “Just whiter,” he licks his fingers and grunts “Tastes like washed down come, though.”

“That’s because it is,” Tony says, and grunts at Bruce’s next wave of come. He starts counting to see if it’s true that Alphas come at regular intervals for the first few minutes.

He forgets about counting when he’s shocked by the back of his brain reasoning: “How do you even know what come taste like?” He wonders aloud and Bruce moans loudly, faking an orgasm – Tony wants to point out Bruce is inside him, he knows he’s faking it – and they end up awkwardly laugh.

“Why were you crying?” Bruce asks, during a lull between orgasms, shifting around on his knees, Tony can understand him, his knees are screaming murder and this is a position he never wants to knot in again, no matter what porn says. He still shudders and moans every time Bruce comes, though. He shrugs at the question and mourns when Bruce’s knot starts to deflate. It’ll still take a few minutes at the least before Bruce will be able to pull out, but for now, the coming is over.

“You cried for half an hour,” Bruce says, then “You scared me,” he adds, softer and hurt. Tony sighs, exhaustion catching up with him.

“I couldn’t control it, but I’m not sure why,” Tony says, honestly, because he guesses you should be honest with your bed partners. “I liked it,” he adds in the same spirit.

Bruce moves behind him, and Tony guesses it’s truly a terrible position to knot in, obviously porn is more stupid than he thought. Bruce keeps shuffling behind him and tries to tug himself out of Tony, but after a couple of hisses he gives up.

“What?” Tony snaps, and Bruce stills.

“Nothing,” he answers and kisses lightly Tony’s shoulder.

Once the knot deflates and Bruce pulls out, they both fall on the bed on their sides. Neither one knows who falls asleep first.

***

Bruce has fucked him for a grand total of fifteen times in three days and if Tony thought their coupling would get less rough with time, he’s got another thing coming. Every time his Heat burns under his skin, Bruce fucks it fast and rough out of him, but with every wave of Heat they both lose a bit more of control and toward the end of the third day Tony’s begging to be bred and Bruce darkens big hickeys on Tony’s bond gland.

It’s been heaven on Earth since the beginning and they’ve been sticking to a few comfortable positions, without it getting boring in the least. Bruce’s been unconsciously petting Tony’s belly and Tony’s caught himself jerking against Bruce’s teeth every time they’re close to his bond gland.

Tony has to actively remind himself he doesn’t want to be owned by Bruce every few minutes.

It kind of slips his mind, when the skin of his neck finally breaks and cries out as Bruce canines sink down in his gland. Tony comes longer, or maybe are just different waves of the same orgasm too close together, he can't tell and it doesn’t really matters anyway.

Tony cries again, because something inside him compels him to cry – and maybe because part of himself mourns the loss of his freedom – and just like the first time Bruce knotted him, he cries and cries and lets Bruce handle his break down.

He blacks out that Bruce hasn’t even come yet.

***

He regains consciousness all of a sudden, startling himself awake and aware. He’s on his back and Bruce is still knotted into him, his neck is sore and wet, and for a second Tony thinks he’s bleeding out, until he realizes that Bruce is trembling and shivering and still coming, but still able to whimper and grossly sob, his face hidden against Tony’s marked gland.

They’re bonded, Tony thinks, staring at the ceiling, they’re bonded and his Alpha is crying about it. That’s when he remembers that Bruce is a damn kid. It doesn’t matter he’s actually older than Tony, he’s still a kid and he hasn’t had to hear about Conception and Miscarriage and he had no idea what he was getting into when Tony threw his dirty underwear in his face and - the most terrifying thought: Bruce only wanted to be friends and now they’re bonded.

Tony knew he was a slut from the start - what with having sex with girls before his body's awakening and still wanting Bruce, but he can’t believe he ruined the only person he actually wanted to see happy.

Bruce is mumbling a litany against his gland that Tony doesn’t understand, but he still tries to soothe his Alpha threading his finger through his curls. Slowly, painfully slowly, Bruce stops crying and grossly sobbing and his litany becomes comprehensible, and he’s saying sorry, for what Tony has no idea whatsoever.

Tony shushes him, his legs are suddenly sore and he needs to piss with a certain urgency - you’d say biology made them in a way that avoided needing to piss and being locked together - and apparently he’s been thinking aloud again, because Bruce snorts, not really like he’s amused, but more like he’s scandalized Tony’s despairing about his bladder and not his freedom.

Tony is a bastard because _it’s okay_ , he says, _he’ll come up with a new plan_.

He's already on it, though. Now that he has an Alpha, he can go to MIT and Stark Industries are Bruce’s - “But we’re keeping the name, right?” - and Bruce gets up on his elbows - the knot shift deliciously and that’s how Tony knows they’re not done yet - the Alpha looks halfway surprised, halfway close to tearing up again.

“You’re nuts,” Bruce says, shifting again and sending a shiver through Tony’s body.

“Jury’s out,” Tony answers with a tentative teasing smile. He’s hoping Bruce won’t hate him for taking away his freedom. It’s not like he isn’t getting a fortune 500 company and a mansion and way too much money and a few enemies in return. Maybe Bruce tied himself to Tony on an accident, but at least Tony can give him something to make up for the fact he’s a disaster of an Omega most of the time - he thinks he’s quite a wonderful Omega when he’s on his knees or back or sides.

He’s ashamed to say he’s quite good at pleasing and begging for more and taking cock.

(His brain tells him his father was stupid to think that Tony would be different from all other Omegas just because he was smart, his mother was right all along he’s fucking amazing at taking cock, he could make a fortune out of it if he didn’t already have one - and he wouldn’t anyway because Bruce doesn’t deserve that. He wants to be good for Bruce.)

“I’m sorry,” Bruce says, once his knot starts deflating and he gets himself under control. “I swear Tony, I didn’t want to do it against your will,” he says, he’s scared and angry. The only thing Tony gets is that Bruce wanted. Had Tony told him to do it, he wouldn’t be beating himself up and crying.

“It’s kind of okay,” Tony says, but it’s not okay, this isn’t how things were supposed to go and now he will never get back Stark Industries the hard way and all on his own, but still, it’s Bruce when it could’ve been someone else.

“You still working for me?” he asks aloud, and it kills him, because legally, Tony can only aspire to be Bruce’s PA, which means everyone will think he just keeps his cock warm at work the same way he does at home.

Bruce makes a strangled hurt noise in the back of his throat and tears up, a river of “Sorry,” and regret come tumbling down his tongue into Tony’s skin. Tony thought aloud again, he really needs to grow out of that habit.

Tony’s growing numb and sick. He needs to use the bathroom and the sweat is starting to feel gross and Bruce is annoying, the knot is still too big and will tear him apart if he tries anything. He wants to be happy, but the more he tries to look at the bright side, the more he can’t help the nausea and dizziness from upsetting him.

There isn’t a bright side and Bruce doesn’t even want him.

“Hey,” he says, chokes on the next word and has to breathe in and out slowly a few times before he can talk again, “It’s okay,” he says, Bruce shakes his head and Tony sighs. He might be the youngest, but he’s the one that became an adult on this heat. He has to make the grown up speeches now. “We’re good, trust me.” he mutters and Bruce stills.

“That’s how we’ll do it,” Tony adds, a plan forming quickly in his brain, “You give me your name, we keep it secret, I take Stark Industries and you keep going like nothing happened.” Tony says.

Yes, he thinks, if Bruce lends him his name he can take back Stark Industries all on his own. Bruce doesn’t have to be there, to be real enough. He’ll legally own Stark Industries, but delegate everything to Tony - there is a law, Tony believes, thoughts all over the place - then Bruce carries on with his life, gets married to a pretty girl and has kids and a white picket fenced house. Tony hasn’t claimed him, so he can, no matter that Tony's will never be able to bond with anyone else. He can still vouch for Tony’s ability to run the company.

“You’ll own the Stark’s share of the company,” Tony goes on, lost in his thoughts, “But you’ll be able to live however you want,” he promises, “I won’t ever get in the way,” he says, kisses Bruce’s messy hair, then adds, “if you don’t get in mine.” Because Bruce has to understand this has to be mutual to work and Tony won't sit around and let Obadiah keep Stark Industries for much longer.

When Tony snaps out of his brooding, Bruce is looking strangely at him, his cock is slowly getting softer and Tony's Heat is simmering under his skin again.

“Would that make you happy?” Bruce wonders.

Tony thinks that there’s no way he’ll ever be happy, but he nods anyway as Bruce finally slips out. He’s standing on sore, weak legs soon after and running for the bathroom so fast he almost trips on his bathrobe belt and falls.

They have sex again, later, but it’s the last time for that heat and for many years to come.

***

“It’s a stabilizing agent,” is the first thing Tony says when they're in the same room again, so many long years later.

“It’s good to meet you, Dr. Banner,” is the first thing Tony tells him, acknowledging his existence. He’s too angry to tell him how much he missed him, although he wants to scream it in his face. “Your work on antielectron collisions is unparalleled,” he adds, because he’s angry at having read ll of his papers and at how proud of him he is, even though he never called, after he turned eighteen and got out the family house. “And I’m a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage-monster.” he finishes, because he’s angry at life - Bruce didn’t deserve it, even though he was an asshole, and Tony knows all about assholes and what they deserve. But he’s mostly angry at him for not asking for protection, for putting Stark Industries at risk and he is ultimately furious at himself for still caring after all these years.

He’s just so angry he could hulk out himself or even offer Bruce his rightful place in candy-land.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hate the ending and I hate everything about it BUT the worldbuilding, so if you're interested in that just tell me and I'll write it down.  
> Other than that I hope I wrote all the possible triggers in the tags. I wasn't completely sure about that either.  
> Still, hope you enjoyed!


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